


Dead Reckoning

by wolfsinofdestruction



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Big Brother Sans, Chara Possessing Frisk, Depressed Sans, Genocide, Other, POV Sans, Papyrus Knows More Than He Lets On, Poor Sans, Post-Undertale Pacifist Route, Protective Sans, References to Undertale Genocide Route, Sans Has Issues, Sans Needs A Hug, Sans Remembers Resets, Sansa-centric, Worried Papyrus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-23
Updated: 2017-12-23
Packaged: 2019-02-19 00:41:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13112103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfsinofdestruction/pseuds/wolfsinofdestruction
Summary: Blearily sitting up, his dazed eyelights searched for a clock and locked onto the hands on the traditional clock hung on the wall. Taking a few seconds to focus on what he was staring at, he sighed. 5.14 am. Far too early for him to be awake, at least by his scripted standards. What had he even been dreaming about to get him to wake at what was an incredibly early time for him, especially since he'd only slept at around 1 or 2 last night?





	Dead Reckoning

**Author's Note:**

> Dead Reckoning
> 
> n. to find yourself bothered by someone’s death more than you would have expected, as if you assumed they would always be part of the landscape, like a lighthouse you could pass by for years until the night it suddenly goes dark, leaving you with one less landmark to navigate by—still able to find your bearings, but feeling all that much more adrift.

Sans sat up, panting and on edge as his eye flared a dangerous blue, washing the room in a gorgeous cerulean and gold. He held his skull in a punishing grip, calming only when he heard the unmistakable sounds of pots and pans being clanged downstairs by his brother. 

 

Blearily sitting up, his dazed eyelights searched for a clock and locked onto the hands on the traditional clock hung on the wall. Taking a few seconds to focus on what he was staring at, he sighed. 5.14 am. Far too early for him to be awake, at least by his scripted standards. What had he even been dreaming about to get him to wake at what was an incredibly early time for him, especially since he'd only slept at around 1 or 2 last night?

 

Flashes of a child covered in dust and gripping a knife with a sick smile appeared in his still sleep-hazed mind, demonic giggling ringing out in the dust-filled silence. The horrible sound that no child should be able to make reverberated in his skull as a low groan escaped him, the small skeleton lying back down and rolling over to stare at the door. If the script was right, the kid should be arriving soon.

 

He summoned a small bone, toying with it gently as he sharpened its end to a point, the bone-turned-dagger now sitting menacingly in his palm as he stared tiredly at it. Was it worth just killing the human the moment they came out of the Ruins? It would be breaking his promise to the old lady on the other side of the door, he mused. But what did it matter? It wasn't as if he hadn't broken that very promise thousands of times over. He imagined impaling the human in the chest and a twisted sort of delight sang in his soul, nearly making him sick.

 

Was he really fantasizing about killing a human? A human child, no less? Papyrus would be disgusted with him, he thought to himself, and could not stop the unhinged giggles that rose up in him. Papyrus really would be horrified at the notion. He'd probably disown Sans. But that was alright, he mentally shrugged. He deserved it, after all. After everything he'd done, his brother disowning him really was the absolute best he could hope for, given the situation.

 

After a few moments of snickering, the first tear rolled down his cheekbones and a new, foreign emotion warmed his soul, one he had felt before but couldn't name before it was gone. Having any type of emotion other than guilt, regret and self-hatred was a gift, now, and he wasn't the type to look a gift horse in the mouth, so he took a firm hold of the unnamed, fleeting feeling and examined it. Was it...was that surprise?

 

A tearful chuckle sounded out in the room as he clung to the strange but welcome emotion. It had been a long time since anything had been able to surprise him: Papyrus now stared at him suspiciously whenever Sans looked as if he knew what the other skeleton would say next, which he did, of course. Remembering the fond memories of shocking Papyrus by finishing all his sentences in a pacifist timeline a few...couple...a dozen resets ago, he laughed wetly, reveling in the love he felt whenever thinking of his younger brother. His bro really was something special. Honestly, he didn't know what he had done to deserve such an amazing brother. Maybe he hadn't been as much as a worthless, pathetic screw-up in his previous...life? Lives? Heh, unlikely. 

 

Abruptly, the sound of plates being clinked together stopped, Sans sighing. That would mean his brother would be walking up the stairs to wake him up, and yes, right on cue were the thumps of boots on the stairwell. What time was it? He glanced at the clock again as his soul sank. It was 8.54 am. He must've been out of it for nearly four hours. 

 

"SANS! GET UP, YOU LAZYBONES!"

 

Sans winced at the volume, as he called out a weak reassurance that he'd be downstairs soon, an aching feeling in his bones. What if he just... He sat up, dismissing the thought as he looked down at the sharpened bone dagger in his lap. He'd spare the human unless he saw that they were covered in dust again. Then he'd show no mercy.

 

Getting up, he made his way down to join his brother, Papyrus's cheerful and excited, puppy-like demeanor chasing away any depressing thoughts as Sans greeted him with a grin that felt as fake as him.

 

 

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He was sitting on a tree branch, up high as he scanned the human child for dust and found none, a huge weight lifting off his tired shoulders as he grinned in relief. It was a pacifist route. Thank god. 

 

He dropped, relishing the adrenaline high as air rushed upwards to meet him, the intoxicating feeling (of what if he didn't slow his fall with his magic, what if he let himself fall, what if he hit the ground what if he cracked his skull open what if what if what if-) ending as he landed neatly on a strategically placed branch the Script had oh-so-kindly provided him with before teleporting up ahead. 

 

This timeline was safe. Papyrus was safe. He shook himself mentally as the human arrived on scene, slipping on his famous smile as he prepared to greet the child.

 

 

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They'd killed Papyrus. Uncomprehending eyelights stared at the dust pile before him, a red scarf that Sans remembered making and a broken battle body arranged sadistically in front of it, as if it were a trophy. They hadn't killed anyone besides Papyrus. Why? Why?! Why why why why why- A hoarse scream of utter agony and loss cut through the still, solemn silence, and it took Sans a split-second to realize that it was him making that terrible noise as he dropped to his knees and wailed into the scarf, shoulders shaking and composure lost as whimpers of denial and broken sobs punctuated the dead atmosphere around him.

 

Nearly two hours later, he steadied himself, having collected the dust into a jar and wrapped the warm, fluffy scarf around him that still smelled of Papyrus, oh god he couldn't do this-

 

"no!" The sudden realization that it was him who had uttered that defiant, stubborn no shocked him slightly. He had to get revenge. It didn't matter if it wasn't a genocide route. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered. Nothing except Papyrus. With a nod of firm resolution, he teleported to Hotland where he knew the child was. He would get his revenge. For Papyrus.

 

 

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Before Mettaton could pull Frisk into a fight, Sans strode up and fired a blaster at them, eye incandescent with rage and sorrow, and watched impassively as the human before him literally got burned alive by his Gaster blaster. He was going to end it, make the death quick before a memory of Frisk, Papyrus and him making blueberry pancakes popped up in his mind. Sans let out a desperate howl of denial and pain as he fired more blasters, over and over. Even after the human was no more and there was only a broken, charred corpse, he continued to attack, a whirlwind of bones and blasters encasing the body before he was forced to stop due to lack of magical reserves.

 

"Sans...?!" Hearing the voice of the robot, he turned and smiled a sweet, deranged smile. "they deserved death." He stated calmly, walking away, back to his home. He'd wait for the human to reset, but until then, he had a temporary solution for him to be with Papyrus again.


End file.
